


2A.M. and Fries

by Jo (mindsofiron), redledgers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Cravings, F/M, natasha is drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4422665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindsofiron/pseuds/Jo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 2AM and I need to consume every potato in your damn house because I'm definitely drunk.</p><p>Or: Natasha breaks the cold war with vodka and fries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2A.M. and Fries

It had been five weeks since Ultron tried to kill everyone, and Natasha had spent the majority of that time at the new facility training the team. She and Steve made a great pair, and she enjoyed his friendship as much as she enjoyed his ability to whip the new team into fighting shape. But Clint had been distant and cold, and they hadn’t talked since the team parted ways. They were stuck in a cold war, of sorts, where neither wanted to break the silence. Besides, Natasha was too hung up on what an ass he’d been about Bruce.

She got back to her apartment in New York at night and ordered Thai food so it arrived when she did. They had a week of leave before the next orders were issued, and she wanted to spend as much of it relaxing as she could.

Relaxing meant breaking out the handle of vodka in the pantry and stretching out on the couch.  It usually _didn’t_ mean getting drunk. Because Natasha rarely got drunk and when she did, she always had cravings for something. This time it was potatoes. Any variety would do, but especially French fries.

No place would deliver French fries at 2 in the morning, she discovered, and no one actually delivered solely fries in the first place. But she was drunk and needed potatoes of any form, and there was one person she knew who had a consistent supply of them.

So she found herself outside Clint’s apartment door, banging on it with a ferocity that at any moment could break the door. “I know you’re in there, asshole, and I know you have French fries, so you better let me in or I’ll fucking break down the door.” Natasha didn’t break the door, but she picked the lock impatiently and burst in. Inside, Clint stared at her from his seat on the couch, a fry hanging out of his mouth.

She stormed over and took it from him, then confiscated his dwindling plate and ate them all.

“Natasha, what the hell?” Clint reached for the plate, but she hissed at him. “Natasha you are drunk, and you’re not okay.

“Clint Barton you’re going to make me the rest of that bag of fries and then you’re going to take me to the nearest 24 hour McDonalds and we’re going to order all of their fries. Any other potatoes you have here feel free to cook.”

“Jesus, Tasha, we have to do a better job of rationing out your vodka.” When she glared at him, he slinked off to the kitchen to fry up the remainder of the bag.

Natasha brought the plate over for him to refill and hovered. “You have another backup bag in the freezer, I know that much.” She took a fresh one off the plate and munched on it, not caring that it was burning hot. When he was done cooking, she took the plate and curled up in the corner of the couch to devour the fries.

By the time Clint had cleaned up and come out, she had fallen asleep on the couch, plate empty. He sighed and draped a blanket over her, turning off the TV before going to bed himself.

She was still asleep when he woke up, and remained curled asleep until midafternoon. He threw a water bottle at her when she woke up.  “You’re an asshole,” he said.

“Don’t fucking disappear on me if you don’t want me to eat all your food. I still want them though, I want hash browns with breakfast.”

“You slept through breakfast. It’s afternoon.”

“Breakfast for dinner, asshole.” Natasha gulped down the water and threw the bottle back at him.

“Okay fine, breakfast for dinner, but you’re going to clean yourself up and then we’re going to talk about what’s been going on.”

Natasha grumbled about potatoes and trudged off to the bathroom. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”


End file.
